


the city slept, but she laid with the devil

by tonyendo



Series: Sapphics and Science [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Clover’s an embarrassed nugget, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Mostly Smut, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Fingering, moiras strap is big I know it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 23:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20348824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonyendo/pseuds/tonyendo
Summary: She must look like an absolute mess—hair splayed out in a halo across the pillows, her cheeks burning with passion, bound and gagged, unable to plead for more. She was completely at the devil’s mercy.And she wouldn’t have it any other way.





	the city slept, but she laid with the devil

**Author's Note:**

> This took me like two straight days I hope you heathens appreciate it 
> 
> Strap inspired by pleasure forge’s Merfolk
> 
> Please kudos/comment if u like :’ )

Oh, what was she doing?

It was an ungodly hour, and Clover was shivering on the doorstep of her boss’s apartment, debating the choices that had led to that moment.

So far, their escapades had been quick and lustful, groping and exploring followed by tongues in sinful places. By no means was it  _ bad,  _ quite the opposite in fact! However…

Clover wanted to take things further. That silver tongue and those deft fingers were fun, extraordinarily so, but… something in her desired  _ more _ . She wanted to  _ feel _ Moira inside of her, beyond slender digits working her to the brink.

It’d been a considerably long time since she’d taken a strap. Hell, she hadn’t even owned a harness. In her hands was a neatly wrapped box, one with potentially too much effort put into it, containing a simple leather harness and one of her favorite toys. 

She’d wrapped and unwrapped the ribbon for hours in frustration. More than once she had been tempted to, abashedly, return the unopened item.

Clover shook her head. There was no telling how the woman would even respond. It wasn’t something they’d talked about—in fact, they’d barely  _ spoken _ about their deeper interests, skirting constantly around the topic. There was a fragility to their current arrangement and Clover was scared that if either of them so much as  _ breathed, _ they’d shatter it.

Turning, she began to leave the way she came. If she walked fast, she’d be able to make the train again. Tomorrow, she decided, she’d return it and get her money back. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the door to the apartment opening behind her, or catch the lanky ginger leaning against the doorframe.

“Clover.”

The hairs on the back of her neck raised. Turning, she saw Moira, standing there in all of her glory. It was obvious she’d been winding down for the night—he woman didn’t know what a t-shirt was, and was wearing a half open dress shirt with her work slacks, thrown on judging by the wrinkles.

“Ah—” her face burned. Moira looked astonishing in  _ anything _ . She watched as the woman cupped a hand around the cigarette she’d placed between her lips, the spark of a lighter behind it. The flame cast an orange glow across her face for one breath, two, before extinguishing. “I didn’t… how did you know I was here?”

Moira tapped the doorbell with a pointed pinky nail, exhaling smoke from the side of her lips. “Doorbell surveillance. I was notified that someone was outside.”

“Ah…” she felt embarrassed now. Seeing the device now, it was plain as day, but she hadn’t been explicitly looking for it.

Clover timidly approached, shifting the weight of the box in her hands. “I’m sorry… did I wake you?”

“No,” Moira admit, taking another drag. She flicked the end away, making sure to keep the smoke and ash away from Clover. “I was going over some notes.” 

The Irish accent turned stern. “It’s the middle of the night. You’ll catch a cold out here.” She put the cigarette out on the stair railing and slipped the remainder back into the carton. “Come inside before you fall ill and we’ll see what this—” she gestured to the box, “—is about.”

Clover flushed at the thought now, that Moira would actually  _ open _ it and  _ see _ what she had brought. It was what she’d come there for, it was her whole reason for standing on Moira’s doorstep for half an hour, and the thought was making her  _ blush  _ like a schoolgirl. “No, it’s… it’s nothing, it’s not important. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“If it provoked you to travel across the city at this hour, it’s important. Come.” She beckoned her up the stairs. With great hesitancy, Clover followed her up and into the apartment.

She found herself sat at Moira’s small dining room table, tapping away anxiously at her thighs. 

“Would you like a drink?” Moira offered, pouring herself a finger of whiskey. Clover nodded, and watched as she poured a second glass. It was set down in front of her with a gentle ‘clink’ and Clover thanked her.

Clover stared into the amber liquor, too embarrassed to look towards her partner. Moira didn’t press her—not while she was sipping her own drink, anyway. By that point, Clover had come to understand that Moira preferred others to open up first, to show their hand before she dealt hers. Kept her own cards close and played defense. It was safer that way.

“I’m—”

“You’ve already apologized,” Moira interrupted. She had been paying attention to the others personality habits as well. “I trust you’d tell me if there were something wrong.”

Sighing, Clover gingerly took her glass and began to drink. She made a face at the intensity of the beverage. She didn’t catch the way Moira’s lips twitched in amusement.

Clover offered the glass back to the host, who poured it into her own. “I… this is embarrassing,” She started. “I just… wanted to be  _ spontaneous _ , I suppose. Is it spontaneous if I’ve been thinking about it? I don’t even know.” There was a slight pout to her lips as she began to grow frustrated.

“Just… just open it!” She shoved the box to Moira, who had to reach out and stop it before it slid into the floor.

The woman pulled on the free edge of the ribbon, watching as the slippery material unraveled effortlessly. Setting the lid aside, she had to dig through tissue paper to find the gift Clover had bought her.

“It… might not fit, I just guessed. God, this is embarrassing. You don’t have to take it, I can return it—”

Moira held a hand up to hush her while examining the gift. Clover pressed her lips shut. The Irish woman’s silence was causing her anxiety to boil, her nerves to scream ‘ _ run away _ .’ Moira was known for assessments, gathering all the available data before making a decision. This was no different.

She looked back into the box, finding the toy Clover had laid among the paper. It was a unique shape, phallic yet obviously lacking humanoid appearance. 

“... interesting,” Moira settled.

Clover’s ducked her head to her hands.. “I knew you wouldn’t like it, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here—”

She felt slender fingers playing with her hair, gently trying to coax her up. “When did I say I disliked it? I merely said it was  _ interesting _ . I may be well versed in many areas, but…” There was a dusting of a flush across Moira’s freckles now. “I was not aware they could be made in such…  _ creative _ forms,” she coughed, flustered.

Clover peeked at her, her own cheeks red. “Oh? Y—Yeah… I like it because it’s not… you know, realistic…” She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Doesn’t freak me out like an anatomically correct one would.”

Moira gave a short hum of understanding and drew her finger across the surface. It was thicker towards the head, narrowing in the middle before widening again. The color was startling—a beautiful marble of iridescent purple, blue and matte black silicone. Every aspect of the toy showed it’s quality. It had been an investment, one that Clover didn’t regret.

When she looked up again, she caught Moira’s eyes and knew it was over. Irises of blue and red were thinned, her dark pupils blown with lust. She felt more like prey being watched by a wolf than her partner in that moment.

“You trust me with this?” Moira asked. There was a strain to her voice, and Clover knew that, depending on her answer, that strain may break.

“More than anyone.”

That was it.

She found herself being drug to the bedroom, their drinks left behind. Clover felt her nerves slight with arousal at the way Moira was tugging her along, as though she couldn't spare the thought of not having her for another moment.

Their clothes were strewn across the floor with little thought to where they went. Clover’s knees hit the edge of the bed as Moira began to peel her panties away, revealing how damp her shaven cunt was.

“ _ Aoibhinn _ ,” Moira praised, her thumb spreading her arousal across her slit. “You’re excited.”

“An understatement,” She exhaled.

Chuckling, Moira drew her finger up—her left hand, with shorter nails—until her thumb was practically petting her clitoris. “I assume you’ll assist me with this?” she asked, tapping the box with her other hand.

“Nn…” She looked up at her, eyes half-lidded. “I’ll do anything if you keep touching me like this.”

Another laugh—soft, unrestrained.

The two sat up, opening the harness together. It took longer than it should to orient it right, and even longer to thread Moira’s  _ impossibly _ long legs through.

Clover coaxed the taller closer. Moira’s knee was placed between Clovers thighs, straddling one as the shorter assisted her in tightening the leather buckles. The black provided a stark contrast to pale skin in the silvery glow of the night, and looked damn divine in Clover’s eyes.

Shifting, she attempted to roll her pelvis  _ up,  _ to draw pleasure from the knee that was just  _ barely _ pressing to her sex. 

Instantly, Moira’s fingers were splayed across Clover’s abdomen, the flat of her palm pressing  _ down _ . 

“ _ Moira- _ “ Clover choked at this, her thighs squeezing together. She squirmed, somewhat uncomfortable with the pressure, but found it to be quite pleasurable after a moment. There was something about it that she was enjoying, having to hold herself together…

“I haven’t given you permission,” Moira stated, matter-of-factly. As she shifted, she dug her palm in, causing a strangled moan to bubble up Clover’s throat. She writhed under the pressure as she tried to escape the torturous hold. All the while, Moira was  _ teasing her _ , that damned toy now sliding through her slick lips with each lazy roll of those bony hips. It was absolute  _ torture _ .

“ _ Please _ ,” She begged, the word coming before she could stop it. “Oh, please, Moira… I need you…”

Something in Moira’s eyes shifted- something possessive lingered in her mismatched irises.

Taking great care not to injure her, Moira began to slide the first inch of the toy into her. Clovers breath caught at the sensation. It'd been so  _ long  _ since she’d been stretched out, since she’d felt so  _ full _ . The toys she owned hadn’t seen much use with work, and those that did were typically on the smaller side. She enjoyed reserving the thicker ones for when she took up a partner. Where partners were concerned… well, Moira was the first in a long time.

“You have me.”

The ginger went slow, checking for any sign that her lover was in pain. When she gazed across her features all she found was bliss. Hazel eyes were half lidded, focused on the ceiling behind her, lips parted as a long, deep moan was pulled from her.

“ _ Moira… _ ” Clover had to close her eyes for a moment. Compose herself. When she opened them again, adoration and  _ love _ were reflected within them.

As she hilted inside of her, Moira nuzzled her nose against her temple. “ _ Inis dom conas a mhothaíonn sé seo, _ ” came lilting Irish, murmured directly into her ear. Then, the English translation.

“Tell me how this _ feels _ .”

Her accent, the way it thickened even in the English phrasing, made her heart stutter.

“You’re so  _ thick _ ,” She moaned, a wry laugh on the end of the word. “Goodness... I feel like I can barely breathe…”

A slow breath passed Moira’s lips. “May I make a request?” She inquired. The way she pressed into her again rendered Clover unable to answer anything more than a brisk nod.

“I’d like to bind you. Nothing extreme—hands, eyes… potentially quiet you, if you’d allow.”

As she stared up at her, Clover tried to remember how to form a coherent thought.

“...am I too loud?” Came her meek response.

Chuckling, Moira pressed her nose to Clover’s. “Perish the thought, little one. I merely would like you to give yourself over to me—that  _ is _ what you came here for, correct?” As if to make her point, she drew almost entirely out of Clover before snapping her hips into her again. The action drew a startled but pleased yelp from the woman.

A low whine started in Clover’s throat. The idea of being entirely at Moira’s disposal…

“Tie me up, Doctor.”

Moira  _ smiled _ at this, a short laugh exhaled. “Whatever will I do with you,  _ brat? _ ” She withdrew from Clover, ignoring her instinctual moan of protest. She pinched her thigh, a playful gesture, before getting up and heading to the dresser.

She returned with three long strips of cloth—her  _ ties _ , Clover realized. “Christ,” She breathed, watching as Moira settled back in above her. “That’s what you’re going to use?”

“They’re convenient,” She drawled. “Enjoy this and I may buy you something more  _ suitable.” _

“You spoil me.”

The first bonds were secured tightly around her wrists, and Moira gave a sharp tug to make sure that Clover couldn’t worm her way out of them. 

The second cloth was a tie that she’d seen  _ many  _ times. It was made of fine materials and was a shiny lavender, typically done in an Eldridge knot.

The silk threaded through Moira’s digits, the fabric cascading like a waterfall as it navigated those nimble fingers. “If you wish me to stop, thump your foot three times. Do you understand?”

Clover nodded, feeling her pulse thundering through her veins. As Moira’s thumb came to rest on her lip, she obediently parted them and found herself being gagged with tenderness she didn’t know the doctor possessed. The silk was knotted behind her head. Once Moira was done securing it, Clover tried to adjust it into a comfortable position with her tongue.

Once the final cloth was wrapped around her eyes, Clover had to result to other senses to get a bearing on where Moira was. She could feel the dip of the mattress and the brush of skin across her. It was easy to imagine how Moira was positioned—between her thighs, parting them and draping the woman’s legs on either side of her hips. She shuddered as the most intimate part of her was exposed to the open air. The bed shifted again, the telltale sign of Moira leaning forward.

“I will not leave you wanting, bunny,” She assured. Her teeth left marks as her lips made her way down to Clover’s clavicle. “You’re eager… but I will make a right mess of you first.”

Those lips traveled back up, peppering open-mouthed butterfly kisses to her jaw as she moved. Clover was doing her best to keep her breathing steady, but it was quickly faltering.

“Surrender to to my will,” came a hushed voice, tickling the shell of her ear.

She wanted to surrender. She would surrender completely and without hesitation a thousand times over if it meant hearing those breathy little moans and slender fingers she loved for all eternity.

The devil had held her cards, but her lover had submit willingly.

She could feel Moira shifting around her. Long fingers wrapped under both of her thighs, splaying them on either side of Moira’s hips, pulling her closer. The telltale  _ click _ of a cap being flicked was the only warning she received before feeling slickened fingers brushing over her already wet sex.

For several minutes, Moira teased her again, slipping her fingers to and from her sex, drawing muffled sounds of pleasure from her. Each time those fingers would wander to her clitoris, Clover would tremble and tug at the bonds of her hands. 

Curse this woman! It was starting to seem that she bound her, just to have her way with her. To tease her relentlessly. More than once, those slender digits would guide her to the edge, where she felt as though the universe was shifting beneath her, before guiding her away. Several times the doctor denied her that delicious tipping point. 

It was after a particularly frustrating edge that those fingers finally retreated. Clover didn’t know what was worse—the loss of sensation, or the anticipation of what may happen.

The tip of the toy was pressed to her folds, sliding through them to give her a warning of what came next. Moira, as gentle as before, began to slide the toy back into Clover. It was much easier this time as she was  _ ready _ and drenched with want and lubricant. 

As Moira began to thrust deeper into her, giving slow, premeditated strokes, Clover began to moan in suit. With each hilt inside of her, she’d moan into the cloth and her eyes would flutter behind the blindfold.

She must look like an absolute mess—hair splayed out in a halo across the pillows, her cheeks burning with passion, bound and gagged, unable to plead for  _ more.  _ She was completely at the devil’s mercy. 

And she wouldn’t have it  _ any other way.  _

Moira was thorough in everything she did, and that included her intern. Her neck was marred with her devil’s bite. Lilac and maroon fields bloomed where Moira sampled, her tongue soothed where she indulged too much. 

For a long time she’d fuck her slow, pushing the toy deep inside of Clover, to press their hips flush for a long moment before retreating. She’d experiment with different movements, angles, speeds, all to get a feel for what made her lovers breath catch (she’d do it again, and _again)_ and what made her grimace (she’d abruptly stop and go back to something that made her bunny sing.) When she felt like it, Moira would roll her hips into Clover at a faster pace if not to watch her throw her head around, unable to see or _speak, _enjoying how frustrated the geneticists pleasure made her.

The minutes ticked by, forgotten as Moira gave her all. It appeared that, as she began to thrust into her properly now, Moira’s face red from effort and a few ginger hairs out of place across her forehead, that Clover’s climax was approaching fast and hot.

“Are you going to cum for me, little bunny?” 

Body arched, she writhed and  _ moaned _ , muted pleas falling against the binding. If listened closely, one could hear the muffled name of the devil, uttered over and over like a desperate prayer.

Her knees pressed together into Moira’s slender hips, her legs wrapped around her waist as she tried, to no avail, to pull her  _ deeper  _ inside. Clover wailed at the denial. She needed  _ more _ , she wanted  **more** .

“ _ Coinín _ ,” Moira soothed from above her, one hand coming to stroke at her hair. “I’ll give you what you desire. You’ve been so  _ good _ , little one. All you have to do is come for me.”

There was a surprising gentleness to Moira’s voice. It was drastically different from the jagged glass she’d come to expect from the woman. If she asked anything of her with those sweetened words and honeyed voice, she would be rendered unable to resist.

And oh, she couldn’t resist.

Clovers body  _ shook _ . The tension in her pelvis released, and she was trembling as her release flowed through her. Her muscles  _ grabbed  _ at the toy inside her, her heels digging into the bare skin at Moira’s back. 

She was so blissed out during her orgasm that she didn’t realize Moira was cradling her, praising and shushing her through her ecstasy.

Once she’d settled down  _ just  _ enough, deft fingers untied the cloth around her eyes. The low light was a relief, as Clover didn’t find herself blinded immediately once it was removed. Instead, she found herself blinking mismatched irises into focus. 

There was something there, something new in Moira‘s gaze. It made her heart flutter which was dangerous given the orgasm she’d  _ just  _ received.

Clover whined against the gag, tilting her chin up, a silent request. Moira’s lips quirked at this. As ever, her actions were meticulous. Meant to gain a rise. Gently, she slid a thin finger past Clover’s lips, crooking it around the cloth as she pulled it away.

“You’re gonna kill me,” Clover breathed.

“I’d hope not,” Moira purred while stroking her chin with her thumb. “Are you alright? Any pain?” As Clover shook her head ‘no’, tension seemed to melt from her shoulders.

She held up her bound hands. Moira moved to undo the bonds, but was stopped as Clover looped her arms around her neck instead. “Kiss me,” she demanded quietly.

A soft smile played on the ginger’s lips as she obliged. They kissed, long and slow, not caring about anything outside of their unpopped bubble.

“You haven’t finished,” Clover breathed against her lover’s lips once they finally parted for air. “Let me help you.”

Moira stroked her thigh, violet nails trailing feather-light across the skin. “You don’t have to worry about that, bunny.”

Clover shook her head, fingers playing with what hair they could reach. “I want to, Moira. I want you to feel good, too… let me help.”

Moira tilted her head, studying the woman below her. “If you insist.” She pulled away from Clover’s embrace, undoing the fabric around her wrists and letting it drop to the bed. Forgotten.

Once she was able to move freely, Clover reached up and buried a hand into that fiery hair with a proper grip. She sniped a deep, greedy kiss from the geneticist, one that left them both breathless and with the taste of whiskey and cigarettes.

“Lay down for me,” Clover commanded. Moira obliged, rolling over on the bed, settling back to allow her free reign.

This was Clover’s favorite part of their escapades— _ giving _ . Moira knew how to work her until she was nothing more than putty in her fingers, but the intern was still trying to figure out what Moira liked best. It had become her goal to get the woman to vocalize more than a few whimpers and hushed moans. She wanted to hear the extent of her enjoyment.

“May I make a request?” Clover parroted.

Moira raised her hips as they both worked on getting the harness off. “I suppose you may.”

Once it was free, Clover dropped it off the edge of the bed with little care. “I want to hear you.”

The faintest hint of confusion knit into Moira’s brow. “I’m always vocal with you,” she claimed, hands settling onto Clover’s waist. “Elaborate.”

“That’s the thing,” she began to nip at Moira’s collar bone. Her tongue dipped into it, drawing a languid line up to her neck where she left a soft love bite. “You keep yourself quite, restrained.”

She was moving down again—down, littering kisses across her sternum. Across her soft breast tissue, to her nipples. She could  _ feel _ more than hear when the others breath hitched, knowing how sensitive her small breasts were. “I’d like to hear you let go of that restraint, if only for tonight.”

“Giving up restraint is a  _ dangerous _ thing, little one,” she mused, drawing a nail down Clover’s jaw. She hissed and scratched too hard when she felt a bite to her sensitive nipple. “Though, I do believe you will attempt to get a  _ rise _ out of me whether you believe that or not.”

Clover looked up at her, mischief dancing in her hazel eyes. “I’ll get a rise out of you in one way or another, love.” Then, “do you trust me?”

It was a long moment before Moira responded, having pondered the question. Clover could see, in real time, as something shifted in her eyes.

“More than anyone,” She responded, just as Clover had.

The permission was all Clover needed. She continued down, her teeth leaving a mark on a bony hip, until she found the place where Moira’s scent was strongest. She buried herself there and couldn’t restrain her own moan as she was met with her lover’s arousal.

With her arms hooked around Moira’s thighs, Clover used her thumbs to part her lips. It appeared she’d enjoyed giving to Clover  _ much  _ more than she’d let on. Her slickness glistened in the low light, inviting. The sight was  _ divine. _

She wasted no time in offering her pleasure. As usual, Clover’s tongue would elicit an occasional gasp or soft moan from Moira, but nothing overly loud. Despite this, the frequency was more than what was usual for the woman. It was evident she was  _ trying _ , and Clover appreciate the sentiment. 

The first louder moan came when Clover suckled on her clitoris. She glanced up, catching a hint of a flush on the scientists cheeks, lip between her teeth. Clover merely raised a lazy eyebrow, refusing to continue until she let go. Once Moira parted her lips again, she repeated the action, enjoying the way her copper lashes fluttered and talons scraped at her scalp.

Slowly, Clover worked a finger into her, two when she was ready. The woman tightened around the digits as they fucked her in time with her tongue, slowing down before speeding up again. Taking her time, just as Moira had done with her.

She’d draw the noises from Moira one way or another.

Edging seemed the way to go. The longer she kept herself buried herself between Moira’s thighs, the stronger her voice became, the harder her fingers wove into long chestnut hair. Hearing Moira’s walls crumble and her vocals set free, Clover found herself pressing more insistently against her sex, her tongue lapping against her clitoris.

“ _ Clover— _ “ She choker, followed by incomprehensible Gaelic. “I—Darling, I won’t—“

She didn’t need words to understand what she wanted to say. Clover’s fingers left indents in Moira’s skin as she gripped her legs, keeping her close even as she tried to squirm away from the pleasure. Her tongue dipped into Moira’s slick folds before returning to the source of her pleasure.

Her apex came hard, and both of Moira’s hands became tangled in Clover’s hair. She let out a choked cry as her abdomen flexed with the effort of her release. Clover’s tongue dipped back into her and she could  _ feel  _ how Moira was pulsating around the muscle.

It was a good thirty, possibly forty-five seconds before she relaxed back onto the bed, Clover petting her soothingly with her tongue all the while. Once Moira appeared oversensitive to the point of trembling, she crawled her way up to stretch out over her lover.

“Was that enough of a rise?” She teased.

“Be quiet before I fire you,” she mumbled, a tired smile on her lips as she rubbed their noses together. Their hands tangled together between them as they shared a quiet moment, reflecting in their love.

In the early morning hours, deep inside Zurich proper, a rabbit had laid with the devil, and found herself sleeping untroubled beside her.


End file.
